


textbook entropy

by kyluxtrashcompactor



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Bottom Kylo Ren, M/M, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Unhealthy Relationships, Water Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 20:32:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13555062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyluxtrashcompactor/pseuds/kyluxtrashcompactor
Summary: Kylo Ren has a lot to apologize for.Hux allows him to try.(written to fill a Tumblr prompt related to Kylo Ren and Hux in a hot tub. I got creative.)





	textbook entropy

Hux was slumped at his desk when the message came through; it was simple, just a single line of text from Lieutenant Mitaka that said only: “Your request has been honored, General.”

Hux straightened, wincing, and then clenched his teeth at the brief show of weakness; it didn’t matter that there was no one here to see it. There was a small satchel leaning against one leg of the desk, waiting for him, and he reached down and looped the strap over his wrist as he stood.

He left his room behind and strode through the corridors of the Finalizer, having to pause once to orient himself between decks G6 and G7. He couldn’t recall having used this feature of his ship before, despite the fact that he merely had to send a simple request to have the rec center cleared for him. Part of the appeal of this exercise had been to revel in the way that those under his command obeyed him still, even if he was merely sending a tired missive to his Lieutenant instead of snapping impatient fingers.

True to his particular talents, Mitaka had managed to clear more than just the rec center, it seemed; Hux did not encounter a soul as he twined through the halls, which was a relief. He had no desire to plaster on an expression for anyone else’s benefit. All he wanted was a few hours alone with the bottle of Imbirri whiskey in his bag, the G7 steam-pools, and the chip on his shoulder.

He used his personal code to enter the room, even though there was no need for special clearance. The warm atmosphere, kept moist through a recirculating vent system, touched his skin and beaded instantly. Hux took a deep breath and exhaled, coughing once at the way the wet air saturated his lung tissue. It instantly reminded him of his childhood on Arkanis, of how running had been hard for long distances.

The door slid shut behind him, and Hux stood there, unsure what the next step was. The room was laid out to appear like a natural, tide-pool landscape, complete with tropical vegetation and halogen lighting filtered through a thick canopy of greenery. If Hux had not been in need of such an escape in this moment, he would have officially found the place pretentious.

There was a series of steps up to the level of the tide pools, the distance marking the depth of the water. Hux could see the gold dusting of sand particles that had fallen from the upper tier speckling the black durasteel sublevel, no doubt swept daily by droids. Hux also a door to his left which, upon inspection, predictably led to a small refresher chamber. He was able to change out of his uniform at a sedate pace, emerging not long after in only his floor-length, black silk robe, a regulation towel draped over his forearm.

Even though he knew that Mitaka had obligingly cleared the rooms at his request, Hux couldn’t help glancing at the door to ensure that it was sealed and that the panel next to it was blinking with a red diode, indicating that the door was locked and would remain that way.

The soft robe brushed against the skin of his thighs like water as he walked up the short flight of stairs, carrying his small leather satchel in his hand. It only contained two things: the bottle of whiskey, and a smaller bottle of oil-based lubricant. He needed more than one kind of release tonight; solitude to lick the wounds sustained during Kylo Ren’s ascent to the position of power that Hux deserved, the physical purge of repressed, violent energy, and the chance to descend into oblivion afterward.

He reached the platform, which was encased by an opaque, floor to ceiling paneling that appeared like frosted glass from the outer vantage point, though was actually a series of interconnected projection screens. Hux pressed the button that slid the upper door open so he could step through, and he sighed as his bare feet touched the fine, pleasantly gritty sand.

The door closed behind him and he allowed himself a brief, secret second to curl his toes in the sand, feeling it compact and mold around his feet. He could see the evidence of Mitaka's request to clear the room; there were other footprints leading away from the pools, dark splotches where water had cascaded off someone's body, a forgotten e-cigarra cartridge. Normally, droids would have been through here to set the space to pristine order, but Hux hadn't given them time.

Giving the e-cig cartridge a pinched frown, Hux toed it under a nearby bush and settled his satchel on a bench that framed one of the tide pools in a half-moon curve; it was fashioned to look like old stone, complete with a kind of moss or algae that crept up the legs and fabricated cracks that made it look like some sort of relic from an ancient civilization. Under normal circumstances, the extra resources spent on something frivolously aesthetic like this would have irritated Hux, but at the moment, the way it lent to his immersion was appreciated.

He curled one finger into the tie binding his robe closed in a neat bow, then drew it away from his body, unable to help the way it triggered the memory of Ren doing this very thing, of revealing Hux's body for the first time like it was an exotic gift. It had only been a handful of months since that moment, as well—the result of Hux's euphoria at the completion of Starkiller base, a bottle of this very same cursed whiskey, and long years of simmering, dangerous attraction.

That ill-advised dalliance had been about as briefly glorious as Starkiller itself, and had shattered just as spectacularly.

Hux should have known better.

He ran his hand through his hair, perhaps more roughly than necessary, but freeing it from the severe style that was part of his image of self-control. Slipping the robe off his shoulders, he laid it aside over the back of the bench, freed the bottle of whiskey from his satchel, and tested the temperature of the water in the pool with the toes of one foot. It was steaming, and needed to be eased into while allowing his body to acclimate.

Hux was in no rush; he'd cleared his schedule for the remainder of the evening, purposefully redirecting a host of mundane matters to the Supreme Leader. It was doubtful Ren would know what to do with any of it, and even more doubtful that he would capitulate to the demands of running an efficient ship, but Hux was confident the nagging intrusions on Ren's time would be met with annoyance, and that was a pleasant drug in Hux's system.

The interior of the replica tide pool was where the illusion of nature began to fade; the floor was black durasteel, devoid of sand and plant matter, which would interfere with necessary drainage systems. Hux settled on a wide seat beneath the water that circled the pool, all of it nearly invisible beneath the churning, bubbling surface. The water itself was a pleasing blue-green, an ocean color that reminded Hux of a distant home.

He let go of a long sigh that shuddered through him, ignoring the way it left his throat feeling tight afterward. He unscrewed the cap from the bottle of whiskey and took a long draft, eyelids fluttering closed at the way it burned on the way down. He hadn't eaten more than a single, standard ration bar that morning, and the drink settled in his belly like molten fire, spreading tendrils of heat through his veins.

Hux relaxed this way for almost an hour, arms spread wide with elbows resting on the sandy outer surface that surrounded the pool. He watched the projections of artificial plant-life through half-lidded eyes, sipping slowly from the bottle and willing himself not to think.

It was more difficult than he wished.

He kept returning to that handful of nights spent with Ren, the way they'd rutted in the sweat-soaked sheets like desperate animals, both of them looking for something in the other that went unnamed, and unfulfilled so that they were driven to keep searching for it. Every time they came together with bruising fingers and sharp teeth, it felt like something was being torn from both their souls to meld between them, and starting to solidify slowly when they lay together in the aftermath of it, spent, limbs twined and sticky with fluids.

Then had come the Resistance, Ren's failure with his father and with the scavenger girl, the destruction of Hux's life's work. It was textbook entropy, and it was still unfurling, in everything from the First Order's loss on Crait to the sudden, harsh reversal of Hux and Ren's tenuous, passionate truce.

Hux sighed, rubbing one hand across his face, through the moisture beading on his cheeks. He started to bring the bottle to his lips again, paused, and then let it settle back into the sand at his side. He could already sense a headache building behind his eyes, his body so exhausted that it promised to simply skip being pleasantly drunk and go straight to hangover.

 

He startled violently when he felt the pressure of fingers against his temples, the bottle of whiskey jerked forward and tipping over the edge of the pool. Hux tried to turn his head, but he was held fast, any movement risking bending his neck at an awkward angle. His heart pounded wildly as he reached up and grasped the wrist of the person that held him, already knowing who it was, recognizing the touch from the way it vibrated with a kind of static energy, like a channel tuned to his frequency just closely enough to feel off-key.

Hux's nails dug into the soft flesh of Ren's inner wrist, hard enough that it was sure to leave crescent shaped marks that would fill with blood just beneath the skin. Hux growled, because no other protest carried the right weight.

Ren did not release him, but the pressure of his fingers relaxed, two of them beginning to make circles over the throbbing veins behind Hux's brow ridge. The nature of the touch was unexpected, and Hux couldn't make sense of it.

“What the kriff are you doing, Ren?” he hissed, still digging his nails into the Supreme Leader's wrist. “Trying to scramble my brain for good?”

There was a huff behind him, almost inaudible over the frothing water. “Trying to say I'm sorry.”

Hux struggled, trying to turn around, and this time Ren let him. Hux found him crouched at the edge of the pool, a dark predator that had crept up behind him. Ren's boots had made heavy tracks in the sand.

“You have a lot to be sorry for,” Hux snapped, meaning it in the cruelest, most encompassing way possible.

Ren's wince was little more than a twitch beneath one amber eye, but he let the barb go as though he was willing to accept the truth in it. The way he gazed at Hux's face, like he was searching for cracks to slither into, made Hux squeamish and curious both.

“How did you know I was here?” he asked Ren, backing away from him to float across the pool, out of arm's reach.

Ren remained crouched, as though poised to spring. He remained unmoving except for the fingers of one hand, which curled in and fanned out over his knee.

“You are difficult not to sense,” Ren said at last.

Hux's brows pinched together. “What the kriff does that mean?”

Ren sighed, uncoiling at last. “You're angry,” he said, and before Hux could snap at him for the audacity of that casual observation, Ren added, “It's like the wail of a siren. Let me shut it off. So we can both sleep.”

Hux gaped at him, lips parted. There was a snide remark on the tip of his tongue, an accusation that Ren only knew how to destroy, not fix, but something tugged at Hux's attention. Kylo Ren was prone to taking what he wanted, yet now he was asking. Even if whatever he was offering was veiled in selfishness, it was still a request.

“If I say no?” Hux asked, already knowing he wouldn't, even though he wasn't positive what Ren was suggesting. He could guess though, and couldn't help the damnable stirring of arousal in his gut.

Ren just shrugged, holding Hux's gaze impassively.

Hux swallowed, considered telling Ren no just because it seemed that he could, but found himself tilting his chin up in a gesture of consent instead. Hux's face remained set in a glower, displaying to Ren that this was not acquiescence, but magnanimity.

Hux bobbed in the roiling water, obscured in a cocoon of steam as he watched Ren's hands move to the clasps of his tunic. The invisible eye-hooks fell open one by one, revealing the broad expanse of chest pockmarked with scars. Battle-wounds. Hux had never told Ren, but he found them primally appealing in the way that they spoke not of Ren's failures, but of his virility.

The tunic discarded in the sand alongside the bench, Ren unlaced his boots next. The corded muscles of his arms flexed as he tugged the leather strings open, and then toed them off. Two thumbs hooked in the waistband of his trousers and pushed them down, needing to be coaxed over hipbones before they slipped unassisted down his thighs.

Hux's gaze was drawn inexorably to Ren's cock, hanging flaccid but heavy between his legs and swaying slightly with Ren's movements as he stepped forward toward the pool and then eased himself gingerly into the water. Ren hissed at the change in temperature, nose scrunching, and it was such an unexpected, human gesture that Hux's lips twitched upward at one corner.

Hux quashed the smile before it culminated, keeping a wary eye on Ren as the Supreme Leader drifted into the center of the pool; on his knees, the water came up to his shoulders, and the steam made his quickly damp hair curl wildly in a way that not even the sweat of passion had done.

Ren approached Hux slowly, floating on the current, his eyes flicking over Hux's half-submerged body as though studying it for signs of impending flight. The sentiment was not far off-base, for Hux could still feel the tenderness in one side where he'd collided with the control panel aboard the command shuttle days before. When Ren was finally close enough, he stretched out an arm beneath the surface of the water and reached for Hux with open fingers, and Hux flinched away impulsively. His back slapped hard against the edge of the pool, sloshing water over the lip of it, and Ren slowly drew his arm back.

They watched each other, Hux's heart skipping even as he seethed at his own skittishness. He'd had far worse violence visited upon him by those that should have ensured his care, far outweighing the brief constriction of phantom fingers around his throat or bruised ribs. It wasn't fear, really, that made him balk, but rather the appeal of withholding forgiveness.

Whether Ren sensed that or not, he waited. It felt to Hux like having the strings of a very powerful puppet wound around his fingers, and Hux realized that it was a kind of concession. If Ren was offering him that, perhaps he truly was remorseful, but what self-serving seed was at the core of that contrition?

Hux decided that he didn't care.

He slipped down a little farther into the water, settling on the bench seat beneath. Ren read his message clearly enough, and drifted close enough that his fingers grazed Hux's knee cap, slid along his outer thigh where the skin was peppered with goose-flesh even in the heat. Ren's thumb dipped between Hux's thighs, tracing the inner curvature of muscle and coaxing Hux to open his legs, expecting a palm to close over his cock. He was half-hard now, his balls low and full against the bench below him.

Rather than touch him there, however, Ren shifted until he himself was between Hux's thighs, their respective depths in the water bringing Ren's lips level with Hux's chest. Hux watched mutely as Ren's tongue tasted the sweat and brine sheen between Hux's pectorals, dragging up to the hollow of Hux's throat. Hux tilted his head back, eyes fluttering closed as Ren's hand squeezed his hip bone and his teeth grazed the slope of Hux's shoulder. Hux waited for the bruising pain of Ren's bite, but it didn't come.

Hux opened his eyes, blinking through the moisture that clung to his lashes, and found Ren looking up at him. It was startling to see him in this near-supplicant pose, peering up at Hux through the steam as though waiting for his blessing. Though Hux was mute in his confusion and his building, heady arousal, Ren seemed to take the silence as an opportunity to move forward.

Hux was not expecting the way Ren pushed himself up through the water and onto his knees on the bench, straddling Hux's thighs, melding against Hux's body until Hux could feel Ren's erection pressed solidly into his stomach. Ren's hands slid back through Hux's hair, thumbs once again resting over the throbbing pain in Hux's temples, drawing it out. Hux ground his hips up, finding friction against the underside of Ren's balls, hearing him grunt softly as Ren leaned in and captured Hux's lips.

The gesture stunned Hux. He and Ren had fucked perhaps ten, fifteen times, but had never once kissed. It was too intimate, and there seemed to have been an unspoken consensus to avoid it. Finding Ren's bicep, Hux twitched, almost pushing Ren away until he felt Ren's tongue on the seam of his lips. Had Ren been insistent, Hux would have shoved him back, repelled, but again, there was only an offer in the gesture.

Slowly, Hux opened his mouth, letting Ren in, tasting him, and keeping his eyes open even as their tongues moved together. Ren's eyes were hooded as well, and Hux could see the glint of amber beneath the lashes, knowing that Ren was attuned to Hux's every reaction. It was suddenly too much, and Hux slammed his eyes closed and reached up with both hands to grab two fistfuls of Ren's sodden, dark hair and tug him closer. Ren exhaled sharply through his nose, twining his arms around Hux's neck, letting Hux drink him in with tongue and teeth until they were forced to break apart, panting shallowly.

“What game are you playing, Kylo Ren?” Hux growled lowly. “Showing me your underbelly so you can dig all your claws into my hand when I touch you?”

Ren smirked, his irises thinned by wide, black pupils. He didn't answer, but curled his fingers into the short hair at the nape of Hux's neck. Ren pulled Hux closer again at the same time that he tilted his head backward, baring his throat and bringing Hux's lips to it.

It was more than Hux knew what to do with on a rational level, his analytical mind shorting out in favor of biting down on Ren's pulse point, digging his nails into the small of Ren's back and feeling him sway forward willingly, submissively. Ren's whole, powerful body quivered beneath his touch, like he was holding back a torrent of energy, and Hux sensed that the restraint Ren was showing in allowing Hux this measure of power cost him something. That, perhaps, was the ultimate crux of this apology, and this physical act was the most direct route to it. It was very like Ren, to take the easiest way out.

Hux canted his hips up again, sliding his hand down to cup one buttock, wondering just how far Ren was willing to go with this gesture. He kneaded the flesh as he nipped at Ren's neck, stroking the tips of his fingers experimentally along the cleft of Ren's ass. Ren shivered, but didn't pull away, and Hux was encouraged enough to slide two fingers deeper between his cheeks, seeking one part of Ren he'd never touched. It had always been Hux on his knees for Ren, Hux's mouth around Ren's cock.

Ren shuddered again, but leaned forward instead of away, bending his head to rest against Hux's shoulder. Ren's hips lifted slightly as he shifted more weight to his knees, and Hux found Ren's entrance with one, long index finger. He pressed against the muscle, having no desire to go easy on him, not caring if Ren had done this before, and as he breached him easily, Hux's eyes rounded with surprise.

Ren was already open, slick even beneath the water. “You planned this?” he growled in Ren's ear, not sure if it turned him on more or if he was livid at the fact that Ren had been so confident in Hux playing his appointed role.

Ren turned his face enough that Hux could feel his humid breath against the shell of his ear. “No. I told you. I just wanted to sleep, couldn't stop thinking about you.”

Hux groaned. “So you fingered yourself open, thinking about taking my cock?”

He felt Ren smile. “Something like that.” Then he shifted his hips back, inviting, and Hux's stomach knotted.

“There's...in the bag,” Hux stuttered, damning himself internally at the way the mere prospect of fucking Ren in his lap made him start to fray at the edges. Ren seemed to take his meaning, and without looking, used the Force to tug Hux's satchel inelegantly toward them. It fell off the bench outside the pool, skidded across the sand, and splashed over the edge into the water. It opened as it began to sink, the bottle of lube drifting out to bob on the water. It would have been comical, except it hinted at the way Ren was almost as desperate for this as Hux was.

The natural current of the water floated the bottle toward them, and Hux coaxed it closer with several stokes of his hand. He closed his fingers around it and thumbed it open while Ren slumped lazily against him, lips moving against Hux's neck. Hux coated his fingers, reached between their bodies and stroked his own painfully hard cock, and then parted Ren's cheeks again to slide two fingers inside him.

Ren flinched at the intrusion, but relaxed slowly as Hux worked his fingers in and out. He wasn't particularly careful about it, and could tell Ren had only explored himself enough to ease the muscle; he wasn't quite open enough for Hux to take him, but again, Hux didn't really care.

Ren had a lot to apologize for.

Hux nudged Ren up with one thigh, and Ren balanced on his knees while Hux aligned himself. He peered up at Ren, looking for some trick in his eyes, but Ren's expression was shuttered and obscured by the curtain of his dark hair. Only Ren's forehead betrayed his brief discomfort as the head of Hux's cock breached his entrance, and Hux allowed him to sink down on him at his own pace until their hips met and Ren's lips were parted in either pain or pleasure. Or both.

Ren was the first to move, rolling his hips forward and back until Hux felt him start to loosen and relax around his cock, the tension in Ren's muscles starting to dissipate. Hux reached up and gripped Ren's chin with one hand, locking their eyes together. He didn't speak as he started to pump into him, hips rocking up until they built a rhythm that made Ren's face flush pink and his lips grow wet with saliva as he panted through each thrust. He was letting Hux set their pace; even though Hux could feel Ren's feral need, Ren only rose and fell with the direction of Hux's hands on his hips, and he kept his eyes riveted to Hux's gaze, which dared Ren the entire time they fucked to take control.

But Ren didn't.

The water around them moved erratically, sloshing over the edge of the tide pool to stain the sand, and the steam seemed to gather, swirling between their bodies and stirring at they both breathed. Ren was straining forward, hands gripping the side of the pool, neglected cock pushing hard into Hux's belly as he fell into Hux's lap over and over again, until finally his labored breathing turned into a kind of choked, animal whine. There was a plea even in that, silently begging for something he wanted that Hux could give him, if he chose to.

It was enough to push Hux over the edge, and he came with a snarl, nails scoring the soft flesh of Ren's hips, hoping it bruised, digging his fingers in harder to make sure it did. Hux felt himself pulsing deep inside Ren, then felt Ren's walls tighten around him as he came too. He fell forward against Hux, making slow, circular motions with his hips that seemed more instinctive than purposeful as Hux grew gradually soft inside him.

Hux's heart stopped thundering slowly, the fugue of arousal seeping away and leaving him feeling light-headed. Part of him wanted to shove Ren away, but that was the part that had scored Ren's pale flesh with his nails, not the part that now held one arm looped around his waist and allowed Ren's hair to stick uncomfortably to his neck and cheek as they leaned together.

Hux thought for a long while about what to say, long enough that Ren's breathing evened out and Hux thought he might actually be asleep. The tide pool had regained its stasis and lapped gently at their naked bodies. Hux caught a glimpse of the bottle of Imbirri whiskey lying on its side at the edge of the pool, more than half of its contents soaked into the sand.

He shifted beneath Ren. “I don't forgive you,” he muttered.

He felt Ren shrug. “I know you're the type to hold a grudge.”

“You deserve it.”

Ren sat back then, Hux's soft cock slipping free as Ren settled on his thighs. The look Ren gave him was both haunted and resigned. “Neither of us deserve anything but pain,” he said.

Hux smirked. “Well then. We're in good company.” With that, Hux did push him off, one palm firmly on his chest. He didn't do it because he wanted to lose the comforting weight of Ren's body against his, but because he was quickly becoming addicted to the feeling of Ren's willingness.

Floating to the other side of the pool, Hux stepped out, picked up his towel and dried himself while he felt Ren watching him. When he glanced over his shoulder, the Supreme Leader was reclined against the edge of the tide pool, arms splayed just as Hux had been earlier. He was regarding Hux with something equally possessive and appreciative, and Hux found he liked the way that balance looked on Ren's face


End file.
